Who Needs a Hug?
by Shadowy Flip Flops of DOOM
Summary: Voldemort, for one! In which I take 'the power of love' literally.


**Just a silly little one shot that popped into my head after rereading my profile.**

**_Love your enemies. It confuses them._**

* * *

The battle was intense, and everyone could feel it. This was _it. _The final battle, the duel they'd been awaiting for years. The showdown. The curses flew between the aurors, the Order, and the Death Eaters, but it wasn't as thick as it could be and tension was in the air. Well, more tension than usual, anyways.

No one had yet spotted Harry Potter, which was extremely odd. Voldemort was, as usual, removed from the battle, but Harry Potter was no where in sight. Almost always, he'd be in the very middle of the battle, incapacitating the best of the Death Eaters left and right. After his seventh year, Harry had suddenly gotten a power jump and from being in so many battles, he was a fantastic fighter.

Little did they know, Harry was plotting. He had a plan.

~*v{o}v*~

The dramatic buildup of the 'last battle' thing was somewhat ruined by the fact that it was thirty minutes in before Harry arrived, walking onto the field and _grinning_, quite a bit different from his usual grim expression. One of the Death Eaters, sounding suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy (although everyone _knew _that someone that rich couldn't _possibly _be a _Death Eater_), tried to drawl, "Fashionably late, Potter? Quite unlike you." It came out as more of a pant, but either way, Harry simply grinned and responded, "Not at all, the Queen is never late. Besides, I had a previous engagement. I'm here _now, _isn't that enough for you, Lucy?" With that he stunned said man and walked towards Voldemort. And it gives even more proof that this couldn't possibly be Malfoy, after all, what Malfoy would take being called _Lucy_, even as a nickname?

The battle continued, though without Harry arriving in a blaze of glory the expectancy in the air deflated a little. It didn't matter to Harry, though, he had a mission. And a plan. As mentioned before.

Harry basically fought his way through the knots of people, stunning Death Eaters and helping out Order members and aurors along the way. No one engaged him, he wasn't really standing still long enough for anyone to do so. Plus, Harry was bloody powerful.

Finally, he reached Voldemort, who was smirking at having his moment finally arrive. "Potter!" He crowed. "All these years you've avoided my-"

At this point Harry interrupted. "_I'm_ avoiding _you_? Okay, so who is this Polyjuiced guy who avoided all battles and confrontations that I've been seeing for a while now?"

Voldemort let out a dry chuckle that hardly counted as a laugh at all. "Very good, Potter. You see, there is a reason why I am in Slytherin and you are not. I choose to conserve my energy, you waste yours pointlessly."

Harry grinned at him. "I was almost in Slytherin, you know, the Hat wanted to put me there. But there is a reason why I am in Gryffindor and you are not-I have friends, you don't."

Voldemort smiled thinly and sent a half-hearted avada kedavra. "I tire of this banter. Let us et down to business." Harry dodged easily. " I agree. You're losing your touch!" He yelled, sending back a stunner.

Then Harry did the unthinkable, smiling hugely. He ran straight towards Voldemort, yelling out a loud war cry.

Voldemort was so shocked by this odd behavior that he didn't have time to fire off a curse as Harry approached him. Still smiling, Harry opened his arms wide...

And hugged Voldemort.

~*v{o}v*~

It took weeks for the chaos to die down. Apparently Dumbledore was right-the power the Dark Lord knew not was, in fact, love. George, though still melancholy over the loss of several brothers, took advantage of the uproar and manufactured t-shirts reading _"What's the matter, Voldemort, feeling the __**love**__?"_ They were instant bestsellers.

Harry himself was accosted by several friends and received dozens of Howlers for his stupid, thoughtless, Gryffindor-ish, stupid, idiotic, stupid, prattish, stupid, reckless, stupid plan. In his defense, though, it had actually had been Luna's plan, so technically not all that Gryffindor-ish, as a Gryffindor had not thought it up.

But it didn't matter. The Dark Lord was dead.

Who knew hugs could be fatal?

* * *

_**Love your enemies. It confuses them.**_


End file.
